Home
by mao-meow
Summary: The apocalypse is in full motion and Lucifer walks the Earth. Dean can't help but to feel worthless and lost with everything in the world up against him and his brother. While trying to get away from the overhead storm, Dean finds himself in a bit of trouble. (Goes with "What Was Missing").


Home

Sam and Bobby sat around the scraped-up wooden desk, flipping through tattered, old books and reading articles online, serious research like always, while Dean sat by the window looking outside at the salvage yard, drinking a beer. The apocalypse was running at full speed with one disaster after another surfacing and killing thousands. It was beginning to appear as if Lucifer could not be stopped. No one wanted to give up hope, but in the back of their minds, and buried deep, sat the thought that it was all going to end and nothing, not even them, could stop it.

"Did you find any leads yet?" Dean asked, his gaze never leaving the window. Bobby let out a quiet grunt, a clear enough answer for Dean. "Yeah, I didn't think so." After a large draught of beer, he pushed himself out of his seat and began to pace around aimlessly.

This was how most of their time nowadays was spent, except for those few occasional instances where there was something to hunt. The unfortunate, and frustrating part of it was that they never ran into much luck with their search for Lucifer and a way to stop him. All they had at that point was the original plan, the one the angels and demons were attempting to get them to comply with- the plan to have Sam and Dean allow Lucifer and Michael, respectively, to wear them as meat suits and go at it in a catastrophic brawl that would destroy almost the entire world and its people.

Dean stopped in his tracks by the door and looked over to his brother who was consumed in his research. He tapped his finger against the side of his beer bottle impatiently as he thought of a distraction.

"I'm gonna go on a supply run." It was all he could think of to get out of the stuffy, old house, and it would make him, at the least, more productive than he was being just sitting there getting buzzed.

"Don't be too long." Bobby practically said under his breath. "And don't get yourself killed, you idjit." Sam simply nodded his head to show he heard.

_White Rabbit_ played as Dean drove the Impala down to the mini mart to grab a bite to eat; he was in no rush to get back to the others. Something started to pick at his brain, a thought that gave him an annoying itch in the back of his head.

Why was Sam so calm about all of this? He just let Lucifer, one of the greatest evils ever known, out of his cage, and he did not seem the slightest bit concerned. Sure, he was spending great lengths of time with his head in a book, but when wasn't he doing that? It frustrated Dean more than he himself could understand. Deep down, he knew that his brother was probably freaking out just as much as he was on the inside, but there was no rationality in Dean at the moment, just an overwhelming amount of stress, guilt, and anger.

Dean pulled up and parked at the gas station, slamming the car door as he got out. The night was still and dark around him, only the lights from the store illuminating the world. He felt as if he was all alone, as if he was the only living person left. It almost felt like a dream, one that he did not particularly like. A bell rang as he walked through the doors, but it seemed much louder than usual, amplified by the silence around it. He didn't take in much of his surroundings as he walked down the aisles, picking up a few things here and there. He didn't notice that he truly was all alone.

"Well well well, if it isn't Dean Winchester." Dean froze and slowly lifted his head as he heard the man's voice behind him. He did not have to turn around to know who it was.

"Well, if it isn't Zachariah, the douchiest angel of Heaven." Dean said with a bitter bite to his tone. He turned to face the aged man who was clothed in a smooth, black suit. The sight of him made Dean's blood start to boil. He could feel himself growing tense, his hands clenched into fists. "What do you want?"

"You know exactly what I want." It was true, and obviously so. Dean was well aware of why the angel was there, but that didn't mean he liked it. "And I assure you, I will get your consent this time." Zachariah reached out his hand and curled his fingers inward. Dean fell to one knee and let out a grunt of pain as the angel tormented him from the inside with is abilities. "I'm sure you remember what I did to you last time we had the pleasure of seeing each other. This time... I'll be more creative with my persuasion."

Blood started to seep through the thick fabric of Dean's coat as tears formed in his flesh all over his back and arms. He could feel things bending and snapping inside him. He could feel pressure all over his organs, and his head ached so harshly he was seeing stars. Blood began to drip from his mouth, painting his lips red and splattering onto the floor as he coughed violently. "You WILL accept your destiny, and Michael will get his vessel." Zach tortured him relentlessly, not even loosening his grip when Dean collapsed on the floor. No matter how painful and excruciating it was, and no matter how much he wanted to, Dean could not pass out. The bastard angel was forcing him to stay conscious.

Through it all, Dean couldn't get his mind to form a single clear thought, but by some miracle, he managed to shout the word "help" in his head. That single cry, that desperate plea, was all it took for Castiel to find Dean.

Zachariah let up just enough to allow Dean to speak. "So, have you reconsidered? I suggest accepting our plan, though I really don't mind staying here all night inflicting endless pain upon your body."

"Go... To hell, you bastard." Dean spit a mouthful of blood at Zach's feet. His eyes were full of anger that seared through and hid his pain. His breaths were short and heavy, his chest heaving.

"We'll see." Dean fell over and let out a cry as the torture continued, the agony coming back tenfold. The angel laughed at the sight, finding it pathetic and yet amusing. He was no better than the demons of hell.

"Zachariah." The angel turned around, caught off guard by the voice. There at the door stood Castiel, a banishing sigil painted in blood on the glass. "You are done here." Cas planted his hand firmly on the sigil and the room filled with a blinding, white flash. When it faded, Zachariah was gone and the torture was over. Dean lied still on the tile floor, right on the verge of unconsciousness and even death. "Dean!"

Cas rushed to him and crouched down at his side, worry plastered all over his face. With a touch of his hand, Dean quickly grew back to good health, his injuries and ailments fading away until he was in perfect condition. He picked him up and held him in his arms, still using great care even though he was no longer hurt or in pain. Castiel held him like that until Dean slowly came back to full coherence.

"Cas..." Dean opened his eyes and looked up into the face of his savior. "Thank you..." Cas bent down and kissed his forehead lightly. A smile formed on Dean's lips, a sweet kind of smile that he rarely ever wore. Castiel let the worry fade away and wore a smile of his own.

"I'm sorry I took so long to come to your aide." He turned his head away, a sense of guilt washing over him.

"It's not your fault, and hey, you saved me in the end so don't beat yourself up over it."

"But, Dean, I-" Dean turned Cas' head to face him with his hand so that their eyes met each other. Cas tried to avoid his stare, but he couldn't look away. As cliché as it sounds, there was something so magnetic about his green eyes. Perhaps it was part of the profound bond they shared.

"Where would I be without you?" Dean let out a laugh and reached up to let their lips meet in a soft kiss. Before he could pull away, Cas placed his hand on the back of Dean's head and kissed him again.

"I won't let anyone get you. I'll fight Michael myself, if I must."

Dean pulled open the passenger-side door of the Impala and gestured to Cas to get in. He then got in his own side and sat silently in his seat. Nothing much happened for a while. Dean simply stared out into the distance, thinking, while Cas watched him with unwavering vigilance. Finally Dean turned to him and broke the silence.

"What do we do, Cas?" Dean's face looked pleading with an underlying sense of distress. "I feel so lost."

"I wish I had all of the answers for you, but I am just as lost as you are." Dean felt such a connection with Cas. Maybe it was because they could understand one another, or maybe it was that "profound bond" he sometimes mentioned. Either way, he knew it felt more than right with him. Cas felt like home to Dean. Suddenly, Lucifer and the apocalypse no longer seemed to matter or even exist. It was just the two of them, sitting in the Impala, and that feeling of belonging and protection.

"I really do love you." Dean leaned in and kissed Cas, a passionate kiss that sent a rush through the angel. The world disappeared around them. They could feel each other's hot breath on their necks.

"I love you too, Dean. I love you, too."


End file.
